Chapter 50 - Page 2

ought not to be introduced by a servant. My sister
is in the garden plucking the dead roses; my brother is
reading his two papers, the Presse and the Debats, within
six steps of her; for wherever you see Madame Herbault, you
have only to look within a circle of four yards and you will
find M. Emmanuel, and 'reciprocally,' as they say at the
Polytechnic School." At the sound of their steps a young
woman of twenty to five and twenty, dressed in a silk
morning gown, and busily engaged in plucking the dead leaves
off a noisette rose-tree, raised her head. This was Julie,
who had become, as the clerk of the house of Thomson &
French had predicted, Madame Emmanuel Herbault. She uttered
a cry of surprise at the sight of a stranger, and Maximilian
began to laugh. "Don't disturb yourself, Julie," said he.
"The count has only been two or three days in Paris, but he
already knows what a fashionable woman of the Marais is, and
if he does not, you will show him."

"Ah, monsieur," returned Julie, "it is treason in my brother
to bring you thus, but he never has any regard for his poor
sister. Penelon, Penelon!" An old man, who was digging
busily at one of the beds, stuck his spade in the earth, and
approached, cap in hand, striving to conceal a quid of
tobacco he had just thrust into his cheek. A few locks of
gray mingled with his hair, which was still thick and
matted, while his bronzed features and determined glance
well suited an old sailor who had braved the heat of the
equator and the storms of the tropics. "I think you hailed
me, Mademoiselle Julie?" said he. Penelon had still
preserved the habit of calling his master's daughter
"Mademoiselle Julie," and had never been able to change the
name to Madame Herbault. "Penelon," replied Julie, "go and
inform M. Emmanuel of this gentleman's visit, and Maximilian
will conduct him to the salon." Then, turning to Monte
Cristo, -- "I hope you will permit me to leave you for a few
minutes," continued she; and without awaiting any reply,
disappeared behind a clump of trees, and escaped to the
house by a lateral alley.

"I am sorry to see," observed Monte Cristo to Morrel, "that
I cause no small disturbance in your house."

"Look there," said Maximilian, laughing; "there is her
husband changing his jacket for a coat. I assure you, you
are well known in the Rue Meslay."

"Your family appears to be a very happy one," said the
count, as if speaking to himself.

"Oh, yes, I assure you, count, they want nothing that can
render them happy; they are young and cheerful, they are
tenderly attached to each other, and with twenty-five
thousand francs a year they fancy themselves as rich as
Rothschild."

"Five and